


Dirty Paws

by Jiru_Ji



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-18
Updated: 2013-08-18
Packaged: 2017-12-23 23:02:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/932116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jiru_Ji/pseuds/Jiru_Ji
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even Will Graham has moments in which he is entirely content with life. <br/>Moments in which he doesn't have to think about the horrors he sees on a daily base or whether he is actually going insane. Just him and his dogs and the only thing to worry about sixteen pairs of dirty paws.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dirty Paws

The moon was about three-quarters full, softly illuminating the grassy, sloped landscape. In the middle of it was a ring of willows, their stringy, leafy branches reaching down to softly caress the grass.

Rain was dripping down from the heavens, but instead of being their usual dark greys the thick, rolling clouds overhead were a deep, dark red, like a good wine or congealed blood.

The falling drops weren't the well-known clear cut crystals, either. They were almost black against the background during their descend, but bloomed open into a bright crimson upon reaching their final destination.

In the middle of the ring of willows, where there was a clearing stood the stag. Head held high, proud, antlers reaching for the sky.

In front of it, staring right into its eyes, which were both devoid of everything yet filled with all knowledge, stood Will Graham.

The droplets of blood didn't touch the stag. It was as if there was an invisible force field surrounding the creature, deflecting the raindrops. However, this wasn't the case for Will. The drops burst open on his skin, painting it with blooms of red before running down in rivulets, looking almost as if his veins had moved towards the outside of his skin.

The faintest of breezes caused the animal's fur and feathers to ripple. The different hues of brown, black and even hints of blue to play a fickle game of chase with each other.

Both Will and the stag stood frozen, staring at each other. After a while, time didn't really exist in this place, it could have been minutes or eons, there was no way to tell, Will was absolutely soaked.

With a start Will awoke, taking in a too deep breath and flailing a bit as if unsure what exactly to do with his body now that he could move again.

He pretty much threw himself on the end of the bed where a sliver of moonlight fell when he became aware of the moisture covering his skin. His initial though was of the blood that had rained down on him, had soaked him, even through his skin. Will let out a breath and closed his eyes when he realised it was just sweat. For several moments he just sat there, kneeling on the bed, eyes closed, until he felt the bed dip just the slightest bit in front of him and something wet press along his hand.

One of the dogs had made his way over towards the bed and was nuzzling at his hand, forepaws on the edge of the bed so he could reach his master. A second, smaller dog stood by his side and when Will let his eyes run over the room he discovered a third standing just a few feet away.

All of a sudden the room felt too small for Will. He hurriedly got off the bed and made his way over to the front door. The three that had come over followed at his heels. When he passed the others another three joined them. It wasn't until he opened the front door that the creaking awoke the last two, who quickly followed after realising what was going on.

Once outside the dogs quickly fanned out, chasing each other. Some ventured away farther than others, but they all stayed in a circle around Will, knowing he needed them in that moment, needed them close, like a sort of safety net.

When they were a certain ways away from the house Will come to a halt and turned around. If the frozen drops of dew on the blades of grass Will was standing on bit Will's feet with their sharp little teeth of winter, he didn't notice.

The fog was just starting to roll in and Will finally felt himself calm down. His heartbeat which was still a little too frantic, his breathing a little too irregular, his eye movements a little too erratic and his thoughts a little too frantic and unstable. It all returned back to normal in that instant.

His little house, his, albeit imagined, boat, one of the closest things in his life resembling a haven.

The dogs all seemed to have calmed down. They gathered around Will's legs, sitting and standing. Absentmindedly, Will rand his hands through their fur, sometimes gripping down on the strands a little too hard in an attempt to convince himself that these things, his little house, his pack of dogs, were constants and would always be there for him, no matter what.

When he finally seemed to take notice of the cold Will realised he probably must have been standing there for quite a while since the sky was starting to clear. Not-quite sunrise yet, just a faint paling of the blues overhead.

When he was about to open the front door to let the dogs in Will noticed the many muddy paw prints on the pale wood of his porch. Looking down at his own feet he noticed that he wasn't in a much better state.

He vigorously rubbed his feet against the doormat to get the worst of the mud off before telling the dogs to stay. He slipped inside the house and filled a bucket with lukewarm water. While the bucket was filling up he found an old towel as well as some rags.

He dumped the rags into the bucket once it was filled up a little over halfway and threw the towel over his shoulder.

Back outside he put the bucket down in a corner of the porch, there where there were the least dirty paw prints. After getting down on his knees Will called over the first dog. Asking it to lay down and then roll over he fished one of the rags out of the bucket, wrung it out a little and went to work cleaning the animal's paws.

Once he was done he let the cleaned up dog inside and called for the next one. Some of them needed a little more work, their lower legs and bellies covered in mud as well.

As he kneeled there, cleaning up his dogs, Will realised he was smiling. Not just that, he felt content, happy. If he could just look after his dogs and not have to worry about anything else, no gruesome murders, stags that were or weren't there or whether he was going insane or not, Will would be absolutely content with life.

Just him and his dogs. To be left alone like that, was that too much to ask? For him, apparently it was.


End file.
